


The Black Wolf

by RAW_SYNTH3TICA



Category: Balto (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Animal Attack, M/M, Male Slash, Post-Canon, Scenting, Survival, Talking Animals, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 18:49:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8589691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAW_SYNTH3TICA/pseuds/RAW_SYNTH3TICA
Summary: Four months after Balto saved Nome from the diphtheria outbreak, he is living in relative peace amongst the humans, but is drawn to a story about a mysterious Black Wolf terrorizing a human settlement, & Balto goes alone to investigate.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reader4books](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reader4books/gifts).



> ALL IS FICTIONAL & NOT MINE.  
> enjoy, QueenofShire405, as you can see, it's a bit rushed...

Four months had passed since Rosy had gotten back on her feet and was then moved along with her family down southward near the Canadian border to be closer to warmer, if not predictable climate, which left Balto alone. His reputation was better after saving Nome from their diphtheria outbreak and he was trusted all the more by the townsfolk to do small civil tasks which few cared to do; watching children during recess, sled work during hunting season and for general shipments, tracking work for hunters, herb-hunting for the local shamans, and keeping predators in the woods. Steele on the other hand, disappeared, being that he was no longer respected or even trusted by his owner, the dogs especially whom got along just fine with Balto. Muk and Luk also migrated along with their own family further north to their seasonal hunting grounds, Boris stayed at Balto’s side, always ready to lighten the mood, and yet this very day was seemingly absent to the young wolf-dog.

He awoke next to a musher gently patting his head upon a cleared snow patch behind the butcher’s shop, he lay restlessly and politely beneath the bench which was occupied by both the musher and the butcher. Their day delivering caskets of iced fish a week’s journey from Nome wore Balto to the bone, his pads slightly chafed and made his eyes a little weary, but his muscles quivering wonderfully after the long trek from an Eskimo fishing village to their butcher shop for fresh sale. Instead of basking in the short freedom of homing, he smelled an odd smear upon the gravel just beneath his paws, the strangeness was that he had smelled the particular scent before, he stood and licked the musher’s fingers as a farewell, the man again patted his back and scratched under his ears while chuckling, “Good dog. Good boy, Balto.”

Tail wagging furiously, he padded off along the faint trail, there were traces of rotten fat, blood and a certain acrid-tinged musk tickling his nose as he pointed his muzzle to the ground and breathed deep, he licked his muzzle unsure of _w_ _here_ or _w_ _hat_ he was after, he asked himself, “Why was it here?”

Unabated, he padded to the edge of Nome so as to have a general direction of where to search first from where the scent came. He turned around and loped around the shops for news of the strange thing happening, he spotted a pair of men and several children prancing about, he rounded the shop to a fence separating the back alley from the street and waited for something of help to be spoken. He stood quietly straining towards the sound though the conversation stayed mostly on topics of normal circumstances, such as work, news on the gold rush, prospectors giving them odd ends of tales foretelling of riches beyond measure. Suddenly, a tidbit of interest arose in Balto, a bit of a tale if it were given more literary terms of reference.

“-and one more thing-” the man to the left began, waving his half-smoked pipe to his companion, “There was talk of a rabid dog off to the south, complicating shipments and scaring off settlers.”

“It sounds like the work of a wolf,” said the hunter, brushing a bit of ice from his beard as he stroked his hairs in thought, “Maybe it had gotten out of it’s territory. The mining and dynamite is probably scaring them off from their natural habitats, don’t it seem?”

“Likely so, they always seemed to deviate from their boundaries at the sight of settlers,” the man agreed, taking another puff from his pipe before continuing his story, “But this particular black wolf is brave, sometimes attacking humans when they try to shoo him off. I don’t blame that poor thing, though.”

The hunter crossed his arms and glanced at the town spreading to their left and right, he claimed firmly, “When a wolf attacks, it’s just a rabid animal asking to be dealt with the old fashion way.”

“Did you hear what was done to that black wolf?” the man asked before emptying out the pipe of it’s ashes.  
  
“It doesn’t matter. Animal attacks are more important than a kicked mutt,” the hunter stated as he removed a canvas from atop his sled, beneath lay the unmistakable scent of death, decay and struggle, “And they better think twice before attacking humans.”

Balto slid back into the shadows at the sight of bloodied wolf pelts and fox furs, questions ran through his mind at the thought of wolves harming humans as told by the two men he eavesdropped in on, he recalled the sacred oath all wolves had sworn of only hunting game but nothing that walked on two legs and spoke a language which was to both understandable, but unable to be uttered by other animals, he heard offside on the opposite of town his name being called.

He sprinted over and happily yipped as a kindly elder prospector looped a harness around his neck and over his two front legs, he accepted his place at the head right next to a strapping husky, the husky lead spoke to him as the prospector ambled over to the supplies load behind their team, “Hey, the name's Lucky. Say 'Hi' to our guide!”  
  
“Hi, Balto,” the team of six behind them answered, Balto regarded the warm welcome, he wagged his tail in show of his happiness and faith as he turned back.

“I appreciate the gesture, boys,” he chuckled, he mischievously glanced at the trail and flexed his paws in the packed snow, “Let's earn our chow, what d'ya say?”

At the sound of 'mush', Balto, Lucky and the team burst forward, they ran even while their musher tried to ease their pace, to no avail, they cut along the snow-swept trails, and stopped until finally reaching a large cabin at the break of dawn. Once unharnessed, Balto explored his surroundings, he sniffed around the wizened wood of the cabin from one end to the other, he then padded the powdery snow clearing where a small brook ran and finally to an old barn where a wood stove burned as the team of seven settled over beds of straw and sheepskins, the place was simple, seemingly once a place for raising a family with a farm alongside.

The animals wearily kept their distance from him, Balto simply cocked his ears down playfully until they resumed their lunch at the troughs, he paid no mind being that he was already occupied with the mystery at hand: the mystery of the 'Black Wolf'.

Nose to the ground, he caught a scent and followed the trail, the deeper in the forest he went, the stronger the scent became, he forgot all about paying attention to his surroundings and soon found himself far from the homestead, but after seeing the homestead itself visible from his vantage, he darted past the thick treeline and again found the acrid-musky scent of the Black Wolf.

The cold breeze tickling beneath Balto's fur was the sensation of freedom, the harness he wore meant only trust and loyalty than servitude, the road, where ever it winded and turned simply meant that he was in his comfort zone, restlessly lending his strength and allegiance to everyone whom needed him – Balto kept his paws flying above the snowy ground, his heart thudding the endless rhythm of bliss as if he were still leading his team onward.

The spirit-wolf Ani’u was unable to help, yet in the very depths of his heart he felt a tug to _kn_ _ow_ , to _un_ _derstand_ if there was anything to be aware of at all, he discovered his ancestry, but all in all not understanding the strange familiarity of the scent threw him off – the scent drew memories of Jenna and the days of suffering as an unwelcomed guest amongst the humans.

All the same, Balto knew that he could at least speak to the Black Wolf and possibly ask him to leave the humans in peace.

**Author's Note:**

> i was planning for this to be more Epic, but it was a Now or Never-deal, it'll be a bit better after i get back into the swing of things...the chapters will Maybe be small & with a Maybe slow-build, but all in all will have a conclusion~  
> also because QoS405 gave me a Bazillion requests, i'm a total slut for those...
> 
> i'll try to post as much as i can. (0_0) yea...


End file.
